One Hundred Years
by the-bird-flies
Summary: She lived longer than any of them, she carried their memories. And that was the hardest mission of all. Sakura-centric, from 1 to 100.
1. 100: Memory

_100_

She lived longer than any of them.

In fact, she was the oldest shinobi alive.

Why was that? Why was it that she was the one sitting at the window, drowning in sunlight and memories? She was never ever the best. So why did she sit here, face set in a stoic facade to hide it all, to hide all that shouldn't exist?

Because they didn't trust her with high rank missions? Was that it? No. She had grown better over the years, surpassing many, but never as good as others. So why did they? Was it even them? Why had she survived all of the missions that she had gone on?

Because she had a will to survive. Not that they didn't. She knew when to stop, when she was beaten. She would push those limits, but never to the point of obsession.

But it was the ones that went beyond that point who became legendary. The powerful ones. The dead ones.

_The names on the memorial._

Her childhood friends were gone, lying quietly beneath the land, their names etched in stone forever. And it was her, rosette hair now a pale white, green eyes dark and shadowed, it was _her _who carried their memories now on her old shoulders.

And that was the hardest mission of all.

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Author:

This idea just kind of popped into my head, so I did it. The time span will be one hundred years, skipping in shifts of five.

Soundtrack: Five for Fighting, 100 Years

Enjoy.


	2. Birth:The Promise

_Birth_

"Look at her." The dark haired girl whispered, cradling the child in her arms. She spoke to no one in particular, yet it felt as though there was someone in the room, someone who was listening. "Kouji, you would love her."

She rocked the child back and forth, feeling the tiny heartbeat against her own. As one they took a breath, as one they lived. Finally she placed the sleeping infant in her crib, smiling sadly. Even if Kouji was gone, even if she was fifteen and had a child, even if life had played against her at every turn, she would let this baby live.

Chikyu Youko's harsh words rang out in her head again, banishing her child from their home. Her stepfather's stoic silence, leaving her life in ruins. And then the fatal message, the one that no one ever wanted to get.

Haruno Sakura. Her daughter. A thrill filled her. This was her family, her life now, and she wasn't going to lose it. Haruno Sakura. The flower that always bloomed when spring came, no matter what.

"We'll survive," she whispered to the sleeping Sakura, her fingers trailing across the soft cheeks. "I know we will."

She looked out the window, trees and mountains meeting her emerald eyes. A large tree—a cherry tree—grew outside the window, a few of it's soft petals blowing through the open window.

They could make it. There would be no other grave stones for the Haruno family for some time. She hoped.


	3. 5: The Butterfly

_Five Years_

I saw  
A butterfly  
Today,  
Sitting at the end  
Of a petal.

The sunlight  
Shone in such  
A way  
That it shimmered  
Like precious metal.

I reached out,  
To beg it to  
Stay,  
But instead it flew away,  
Letting the loneliness settle.

I saw  
A butterfly  
Today,  
Sitting at the end  
Of a petal.

But now that  
Butterfly is gone.


	4. 10: Ribbon

_Ten Years_

She watched her mother danced around the kitchen, her body gracefully as a river. Her long, thick hair, black as a raven's wing, twisted along with her, fitting the contours of her body perfectly.

"Sakura?" Dark emerald met light jade; the jade looked away, feeling tears prickling behind them. With a loud cough she tried to keep from crying, but, looking up at her mother, attired in dark black shorts and a cheongsam dress, it was useless. With a heart wrenching sob she sank down, sobbing. Warm arms suddenly enveloped her, pulling her close to Barako.

"Honey…" She heard her mother whisper, rubbing her hands up and down her back. The comforting gestures only made her hurt more and the tears continued with reinforcements.

Finally she stopped crying, thankfully taking the tissue that Barako handed her and blowing her nose. Leaning on her mother's arm she was led out onto the roof.

The view from there was breathtaking. The sun, setting in the distance, left a golden glow on everything, turning even the shadowy valleys a creamy yellow. Sitting down, their legs hanging over the edge, the twenty-four year old wrapped her arms around her ten year old daughter, snuggling her closer.

"I betrayed her," Sakura finally said, her voice slightly higher than usual. "I called us rivals."

"Mhmmm…" She had learned not to push things with Sakura, that she would tell on her own.

"Ino. Over a boy. _That _boy."

"The Uchiha heartthrob?"

"Hai…" A few small tears leaked down her cheeks, causing her to hiccup slightly and tighten her grip on her dress.

They watched the sun as it fell behind the mountains, pulling their shadows farther and farther back. Slowly the lights of the city went on, filling the air with a hazy orange light. A small wind whipped around their bodies, filling Sakura with endless emptiness.

"Is he really worth it, this Sasuke?" The question startled her; she looked up at her mother, shock registering on her face.

"Of course he is! He's handsome, has the best grades in the Academy, is so mysterious…" She trailed away, unsure of what she had just said. "I really, really like him," she finished finally, her chin jutting forward slightly.

"But is he worth it? Ino helped you up, has always been there…I hear that he is silent, arrogant, bent on revenge…"

"Revenge?"

Barako ignored the last question, continuing on with her own interrogation. "Is he worth it? Is he worth you?"

Sakura bowed her head, watching a few villagers make their way down the streets below. She could hear happy shouts from the ramen stand, Ichiruka. But his face—his gorgeous face!—pervaded her thoughts again.

"Yes," she said finally, though her voice was unsteady. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I'd die for him. I'd do anything for him."

"And you would do the same thing for Ino as a friend?"

The darkness grew around them. Sakura shivered, feeling her skin prickling.

"We all make mistakes, but it is those who go back and understand them that will truly live up to legend."

"Nani?" Sakura looked up confusedly at her mother. "What does that mean?"

"The same thing as you saying that you will die for this boy that you don't even know."

"But I would! He is the only one for me! Ever!"

"Do you really love him that much?"

"Like I said, I'd die for him. He is all I will ever love."

Barako didn't answer that; instead, she pulled the girl closer, making sure that she was safe from everything, if only for a moment.

Because some things turn out exactly the way you imagined.


	5. 15: After All

_Fifteen _

Sasuke-kun. Isn't if funny how familiar that is? Even though I don't mean it, the words just keep coming, laying down the barrier. Is that what I am destined to be? A mindless love machine, always ready to accept to boy I crushed upon for three years before falling apart, broken hearted? And then only to come back when he comes back?

No.

At age fifteen, my mother had already had me; my father was dead. Her family disowned her, threw her away like garbage. And I haven't even been kissed, much less had the guts to profess that I love someone, truly this time. Why is that? Why is it that if I asked _him _on a date he would refuse me or insult me, when I was his last chance for happiness? Or at least, I thought I was. Naruto would offer the same to me and I would repeat the incident, pouring all of my hurt into him.

Even Ino has had a kiss; hell, she's had a hundred. And yet here I am, waiting, wishing. Mother would have smiled in her own special way and tell me that waiting can often make things better.

But she's not here anymore.

…And what of Kakashi-sensei? What would he think? What would he say? That I should pursue love at all costs? That it was unimportant? Well, I'll never know. Like the rest of my family, he's buried beneath stone.

So I wonder, what would love be like? Is it worthwhile?

Will it ever come to me?

The last one I doubt. After all, I am a shinobi.


	6. 20: Light

_Twenty_

She never imagined that she'd be sitting here, her mind in a harsh daze under the hot sunlight. She should be married, or, better yet, on a mission. But she wasn't. She was alone.

And that was the way it should be. A true shinobi never trusted her emotions, always pushed them aside, useless. She had never been able to do that. Instead she sat here, caught in those memories that slowly destroyed her.

Once again she saw that small face, eyes wide and wanting as they begged to be fed. The small morsels that she tossed into those expectant hands shimmered in Sakura's memory as the words of a bridge builder came back to her.

"…It hasn't always been this way."

But was that true? Had he seen through the layers right down to the bottom? Somehow she thought that the lonely child had always existed, simply away from his eyes, his world.

She had seen the ache in Naruto's eyes, the hurt in Sasuke's gaze. She had known of the pain inside her mother, had felt it in herself.

The torture of being alone.

But they pushed it away. They were the strong ones. They used it; Sasuke for revenge, Naruto for recognition, her mother for her. They rebelled, never letting it catch hold of their souls.

In the end, she was the one who clung to it. She was the one who fell.

And maybe that was how it had always been.


	7. 25: A Woman Walked Away

_Twenty-five_

The water glistens

In the river,

A soft roar.

The wind sways the

Trees,

A teasing kiss.

The rain falls

silently,

A weeping warning.

A girl walks

Away,

A single stone.

The moon moves

Across the sky,

A distant power.

The shadows creep

Through the trees,

A whispering threat.

The sun moves

Through the sky,

A burning heat.

A blossom fades

From life,

Blowing away on the wind.


	8. 30: The Mountains

_Thirty_

She was the healer in this simple village. She had lived here since she left Konoha, setting off to find something better in this life. At thirty, she was as beautiful as ever, though there were small lines etched in her forehead and around her mouth. She doesn't have to tell the villagers where she came from and why. They all have a story. They understand.

It was tucked away in the mountains, a place that was almost constantly cold. Yet in those sparse summers, it was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Even in winter it was that way, endless beauty. It made her sad sometimes, that she could never share this beauty with people from her past life. But that didn't matter now. It never would.

She lived away from the villagers, her home tucked away in a series of caves. They came to her with the sick or wounded, trusting her with the lives of others. Sometimes she lost them, and when she did she mourned as much as they did. It hurt to see their tears; she helped as best she could.

But her best wasn't always good enough.

There had been one child, a boy, his body being eaten away from the inside. It pained her to hear his cries, especially when she powerless to help him. She tried, but had to settle with holding him in her arms, weeping as he died.

She was the only one. He was an orphan.

And she felt empty, like losing her own child.

The hollow ache that had never left returned, filling her soul. Without thought or reason, she began to drift even fart her away, secluding her self to her own life. Always the same thought gnawed at her, plagued her mind.

Was she good enough?

She didn't think that she could answer that.


	9. 35: One in a Million

_Thirty-five_

There was a storm coming. The dogs sensed it and howled, their voices rising in a mournful melody. She watches as the wind picks up, slapping the rocks. Thunder echoes through her valley, shaking the trees. Rain pelts the ground, soaking her as she stands, over looking the village.

She remembers another night like this.

The cold wind, slapping them across the rocks as they tried to run, knowing that the burden clasped in Barako's arms must be saved. Winds, tearing at their clothing as they almost reach the checkpoint. The nin behind them are lost, but they don't know that. And then it happens.

Lightening strikes; Sakura can't tell where it hit for a moment as she is knocked aside, the scroll slapping her face as it flies from her mother's arms. And then she opens her eyes and sees exactly what it hit.

Barako is standing, still illuminated by the white fire. Her back is arched in pain, her eyes wide. For a moment she balances on the brink, then collapses, her eyes still wide and blank, onto the wet rock.

She is screaming, shrieking above the storm, commanding her mother to come back as she shakes her. It is last of many family missions that they made, but Sakura doesn't believe that. She only believes that her mother is faking this sudden immobility, that she is alive, truly…

There is no pulse. Her skin is colder than the rain could ever make it, her eyes still wide.

Two trembling fingers reach out and gently close the lids before the thirteen year old collapses over her mother's corpse, her sobs and screams louder even then the thunder. One of the Jounin at the checkpoint hears the painful noises and comes to look, only to find a girl clutching the dead body of her mother, now an orphan.

She knows the story; she also knows that the scroll was mainly useless afterward, as it had fallen into the chasm at their feet. The pain is still red hot, raw as it was on that day.

She still can't believe that the bolt struck her mother; a one in a million chance. But it did, and now she lies in earth, her eyes forever blank and staring. She can still see the image of Barako bent against the sky, for all the world a fallen angel. And she only knows one thing:

_Her mother had always said that any chance was lucky, even one in a million. And it turns out that she was right._


	10. 40: Return To Home

_Forty_

She wanders in  
At daybreak,  
Beneath a  
crying sky.

Her broken wings  
Are tucked behind  
Her,  
Unable to fly.

Her hair is wet  
And dripping,  
Clinging to her  
Back.

Her broken pride  
Is held within  
Her,  
Knowing what it lacks.

Her eyes are hard  
And haunted,  
Not the same  
That left.

Her broken soul  
Lies shattered  
Within her,  
A great gaping cleft.

Her skin is pale  
And freezing,  
Like the moon  
In the clouds above.

Her heart is  
Cracked within her,  
Hurting from  
the lack of love.

She wanders in  
At daybreak,  
Beneath a  
Crying sky.

Her broken wings  
Are tucked behind  
Her,  
Unable to fly.


	11. 45: Bridges

_Forty-five_

It took them five years to notice her. Five years. In all that time she stood in the shadows, old and new wounds torn wide. In those five years she learned of the battles, victories, loves, and the deaths. Her heart was ripped apart again and again as she looked at the stone, their names carved as the heroes they were. The heroes she would never be.

She didn't recognize him when she saw him. His hair had grown out, falling into his eyes, one of which was closed forever under a scar. Marks of worry and toil had appeared on his face, coupling the other permanent tears. He had stopped by her store to purchase some of the scrolls that lived there. He didn't see her either at first, until he saw her hair, shorn short enough to look like a young boy's.

His eyes widened, his hands grasped her forearm. Lips forming her name, he spat it out to the wind, a lonely word.

"Sakura."

He no longer wore the jumpsuit, now it was a Jounin vest and more normal clothing. The once blinding smile was still there, torn in two by another scar. She felt her heart tighten, whispering his name.

"Lee."

They stood like that for an eternity. Finally he said it.

"Why did you leave?"

"I had to."

"Why?"

Pain erupted. His questions, red-hot pokers thrust into her hurts, burning her.

"Because."

"Oh." He took his hands off of her arm, lowering his eyes.

"They're all dead," he murmured finally, slipping something onto the counter. "Naruto was Hokage, but sacrificed himself to win the war. Sasuke died after he killed his brother of the wounds. The others…they all died in the war. Ino…she told me to give you this." He lifted his hand, and walked away.

"You should have stayed." He said, turning one last time. "If you had stayed, we wouldn't be the last ones." His footsteps echoed away, leaving her to stare at the countertop.

Upon it was a red ribbon, dirty and old, its thread fraying. The one that had been thrown away all those years ago in a mistake. She remembered the words that had gone along with it.

_Go ahead. Strike a pose._

Deep inside, her soul cried, flooding the world. Outside the only sign of her pain was trembling fingers as she reached out to touch the small bridge to the past.

She knew that the past could not be changed. But she could still dream.


	12. 50: Halfway Over

_Fifty_

Her life was half-over. Already her story was in the middle of its weathered pages. And she was ashamed of it.

That year she went back to the mountain village. When she reached it, she found it deserted, a ghost town. It had been attacked, she learned from examination, by a force that had demolished it. She had screamed then, a haunted, animal sound that echoed on and on.

No matter how much she tried to hold onto things, they slipped away.

The year before, Lee had died, his body mangled by enemies. His name was added to the memorial. A hero. They all were.

She had found her father on that slab of marble: Haruno Kouji. He was a hero too? She hadn't known, hadn't remembered. Was she to be a failure in a line of legends?

Yes.

Thirty-eight years ago, her only dream was to marry a certain boy. Twenty-five years ago, she had left this place. Ten years past, she was back. And now?

She truly didn't know.


	13. 55: Fire

_Fifty-five_

She watched the flames mount higher and higher, playing with the wind. They consumed her house slowly, allowing her time to think.

She wasn't sure if she had meant to knock over the candle onto the scrolls. Now it was too late, but she wondered why she hadn't stopped it. Was she saving her work from careless hands?

Or was she burning the past to the ground?

The flames crackled, their heat close enough to tickle her face. She stared into them, a tapestry of blue and red, blood and sky, mixing together. The acrid smell of singed hair filled her nostrils as she took a step forward, one hand reaching out to touch the living death.

Fire seared her skin, sending her thoughts reeling back. She held her hand there, however, feeling the liquid heat flowing over her fingers, turning them red and black. Finally she pulled it back, staring at it in fascination as smoke rose, curling, from her burned fingers. Was this what it felt like to die in flame? She didn't really mind it if it was; it was almost peaceful, the lulling scent of death.

Was this who she was? A woman, standing, her hair and skin burning, fascinated by the pain? Was her life truly like this?

Sakura had always had a good imagination. Was she simply imagining this?

Maybe she would wake up to her mother calling; maybe she would go back to twelve again, have a chance to fix the mistakes. But she didn't think that she would change anything. It seemed natural.

She remembered a certain lazy sensei, turning up late one morning.

"_Sorry. I got lost on the road of life."_

No one had ever said any truer words. At least that was what she believed.

Because didn't everyone?

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_Everyone gets lost at times.  
__Only some find their way  
__back to the path._


	14. 60: Love Lost

_Sixty_

She remembered the fight as clearly as though it were yesterday. She had only been seventeen then, but the words had been sharp, defining every fault.

"_So, are you really…in love with Shikamaru?" Sakura sidled up next to Ino, wrapping an arm around the blond girl's shoulder. The tension had slid away after the Chuunin exams, and the bond had slowly been mended._

"_Yeah." Ino was unusually quiet. She would always gush when she managed to hook another boy, claiming that he was the one. Now she stood, a far away look in her eyes._

"_Have you got anyone?" Her head suddenly sprung around and she lifted Sakura's arm as she walked over to the cupboard to fish out two glasses from behind the counter. Strange as it was, the Yamanaka floral shop always had something tasty to offer customers along with their amazing plants. _

"_No. I'm waiting…"_

"_Is it him?" Ino had stopped, still turned away._

"…_Yes…" She felt a flush rising. It wasn't the exact truth. She was waiting for him, but not in a love sense. And yet…she sometimes wondered if she were. She had given up years ago, but some part of her still harbored love, determined to show him what he had rarely known._

"_He is never going to love you!" Ino slammed the cups down, shattering them. She spun around, her eyes fiery and angry. "Do you realize that? He will always be Sasuke!"_

"_Shut up!" She was standing, the stool flung far. She wanted this to stop, right now. Not another fight. Not again. _

"_It will always be the same! He's just gonna break your heart again!"_

"_You don't know him!"_

"_Either do you!"_

"_I was his teammate!"_

"_God dammit, Sakura, he would never _care _for you! It's not in his nature!"_

"_Oh, so now I'm not good enough?" She was struggling to keep her voice low; every word was hurting her._

"_You know what I mean! He is a cold hearted bastard, Sakura! Give up on him!"_

"_Don't tell me what to do!" She screamed back, letting it all go. "You always tell me what to do! I never get a word in! You always have all of the looks, the adoration! And what do I have? Nothing! Not even a mother! So just shut up! You don't know him and apparently you don't know me!" Every word out of her mouth was filled with hurt and fury, and she felt sadistically glad at the pain on Ino's face._

"_I am only trying to help! Why can't you get that? You're stupid! A stupid forehead girl who doesn't know what's good for her! I am trying to save you!"_

"_Well, maybe I don't want help! I'm sick of help and I'm sick of pity! I think that I can trust myself in at least this!"_

_Ino slammed her fists down on the counter, her cheeks red. "What would you know about love? About anything?"_

_The words burned, branding her soul. She felt every shameful moment come back. With a shuddering breath, she stepped back, and slowly, every step hurting her, she walked out the door. She waited until she was safely inside her room before sinking down and weeping, as though trying to drown herself in her world of tears._

_They didn't speak after that. Everyone knew, however, as Ino ranted about it to Shikarmaru. Sakura never admitted it, but the person who she had wished was there as she sobbed was her best friend._

She was older now, but no wiser in the ways of love. She even messed up simple things like saying hello, her words always coming out in the wrong way. A single sentence from her mouth and suddenly people turned away, not wanting to speak with her.

But that hurt had grown dull as the wounds closed over, leaving her free and floating, with nothing to hold her down.

That was the worst feeling of all.


	15. 65: Welcome to the Underworld

_Sixty Five_

She watched as children, all grinning, all laughing, poured out of the Academy, their hands clutching hitae-ate with a sense of utmost pride. Parents and siblings raced forward, embracing them and telling them how amazing they were, how important. Everyone was ecstatic, some were even crying. No one was left out.

But she could see it. Even if they couldn't. The ghost of a blond boy, sitting sadly on a swing while others looked over and ridiculed him. A black haired child walking away, no family to comfort him. She didn't know where she was; she couldn't even remember what she had been doing that day; it was all a blur. Had she been happy? She was sure she had; it would not have made sense otherwise. Had Barako cried? No. Barako was strong; she would not cry over a silly ceremony.

Then why did she feel so sad?

Where had her life been, that day?

She watched as a particularly small boy sat upon his father's shoulders, waving the headband high in the air like a banner. At that age he didn't know what it symbolized, what that band of metal and cloth would do to his life and body. He didn't know that that simple object would determine who his enemies were, who he was. He didn't know that it would shape his life.

None of them knew. None of them knew that it was the final sign that they were killing machines, weapons of war, pawns. They didn't know who moved them, nor that someday they would do the moving. Each happy mind had just been sentenced to a life of darkness. There was no light for the shinobi. That had been proven many times.

They were ignorant. Maybe that would get them killed someday. Maybe they would be lucky enough to die before they graduated Chuunin, or even Genin. Because no matter the pain, it was nothing compared to what must come.

She would cry for them now. She knew that they were the future, the hope of Konoha. But right now, she just wished that they had taken a different path.

She knew what it was like to be the last one.

She knew what it was like to be killed again and again, if not physically.

She knew what it was like to kill, to hurt, the taste of blood in her mouth.

She knew what it was like to be a shinobi.

Pure hell.

They had just stepped off the brink.

"_Congratulations, graduate."_

_Welcome to the Underworld._


	16. 70: Woman in the Mirror

_Seventy_

She watched herself in the mirror. An old woman stared back, her emerald eyes dark, their luster lost. The once cherry colored hair had faded now, a silvering grey replacing it. It was long; she hadn't cut it for some time now. She watched as her reflection lifted one old hand, the bones obvious beneath the pale skin. How long ago had it been since this body fought a _real _battle?

How long had been since she had listened?

People would come by every once in a while, dropping food and gifts. She would nod to them, always wearing a warm, sincere smile, and say a word of thanks. They never stayed, though. They never thought that she might want company, out there in her garden, watching the days pass. It never passed through their minds that it was even possible.

But now she wanted it.

Just to hear a human breath, the comfortable silence, their presence. No fear, no tension, simply bliss, like two friends or lovers.

Lovers. How long had it been since she had loved? An eternity? Or a day? How long had it been since she had seen Sasuke's face, had heard Naruto's laugh, Kakashi's pathetic excuses. Ino's eyes, Hinata's stutter, Kiba's bark. How long had it been?

Was this what everyone had avoided? This emptiness, knowing that there is no one there?

But they would rather be alive, wouldn't they? Even if they had to grow old and know beyond their years, it was alright if they were with friends, wasn't it?

The woman in the mirror sighed, her eyes tired. Was this what she deserved?

What about the girl in the picture?

That girl had spirit, spunk, something to live for. She looked at the tattered photo in its weathered frame, the cracked glass sending cobwebs across it. Was that photograph why she know lived in this house? Why had she saved it?

It was a living memory, a reminder. Sometimes she hated it, sometimes she loved it.

But mostly she mourned it.

She mourned for the occupants, the dead ones, the ones that weren't in it, yet shared the same fate. The girl in the middle, she mourned her too, regretted every battle that she hadn't fought, hated every one she did. If only she had turned back then, had left.

But she was too proud.

They say that the meek will inherit the earth. What about the ones considered weak? Would they? And if they did, where was that world?

Apparently it was forgotten, just like the photo and the graves and the wind and the trees and the legends and the memories.

She was getting old.

The mirror was evidence of that.


	17. 75: The Morning

_Seventy-five_

The sun rises over  
The village,  
Its warm glow  
Causing the  
City to  
Wake.

For a moment,  
Nothing happens,  
Then everything  
Bursts apart,  
Breaking boundaries  
To later remake.

One woman  
Stands,  
Her body straight  
And tall,  
As she watches the river,  
A silver snake.

She used to go down  
There,  
To meet with  
a team,  
But now they are gone,  
Leaving only memories to take.

The sun rises over  
The village,  
Its warm glow  
Causing the  
City to  
Wake.

But she only  
Stands there,  
Waiting to see  
What the  
new day  
Will make.


	18. 80: The Rose

_Eighty_

One of the wounds in her thigh ached as she moved slowly down the path. Inside her ever energetic partner, Inner Sakura, snorted at the pathetic speed at which they moved. She swung her pink head around, the words on her forehead glimmering as she walked off into the dark.

It was amazing how fast time seemed to go by. Was she eight already? She felt as though she had walked a journey of one thousand miles. But wasn't life supposed to be like this? Wasn't it?

One trembling hand reached down and gently caressed the bud of a rose. It was still early spring, yet this valiant little flower tried to pry itself open to be caressed by the sun. Maybe some day it would do so, and reach farther and higher than the other roses, blooming like a rich red sun. But what if it failed? What if it was beaten by the cold and torn down by the wind? What would happen then?

Life would go on.

And that was what would happen with her, and what had happened to the rest of them. Life had gone on, even though they had finally been beaten. People were smarter than that. They knew that things would never get better if you stopped time right there, reliving that moment again and again. That was what she had realized. They would laugh at her, if they knew that she mourned them. She did, but she did _not _let it get the best of her.

_Strike a pose._

And she had. Just like the little rose head that she stroked with her aging hands, she too had made her place. She had helped people, though maybe not here, and had made sure that someone would think of her, even if just once.

"I did it, Ino," the old woman sighed as she stood, eyes still on the flower slowly uncurling its petals. "I did it."


	19. 85: Today

_Eighty five_

Today is a blue day,  
Full of sorrow.  
The sun rises behind clouds,  
Praying for tomorrow.

Today is a red day,  
Full of fire.  
The winds blow past,  
Pushing ashes from the pyre.

Today is a white day,  
Relaxed and caring.  
The clouds roll away,  
Needing no love sharing.

Today is a green day,  
Full of surprises.  
What will come of them,  
No one surmises.

Today is a black day,  
Full of tears and pain.  
Come tomorrow,  
There will be soft rain.

Today is a blue day,  
Full of sorrow.  
The sun rises behind clouds,  
Praying for tomorrow.


	20. 90: Paintings

_Ninety_

A child had painted a picture for her.

It was a mess, acrylics everywhere, not any real shape or definition. Pink, yellow, silver, and black smeared together along with red, orange, even more black, and green. Blue pushed away on the top, the sky she thought, but she wasn't sure. However, when she looked down at the grinning boy, she smiled.

"I love it, Akito," she said, placing an old hand on his shoulder. He beamed, his light hair seeming to give him a halo.

"I made it just for you! Our teacher told us to make a picture of someone who we admire! Our hero, he said! So I did you! And then he showed me a picture and I decided to do you with your friends! See, that's Naruto, and Sasky, and Kakashi, and you in the middle!"

She laughed quietly at his mispronunciation.

"Is Naruto your hero?"

"No!"

"Is it Sasky?"

"Uh-uh."

"Kakashi?"

"Who then?" She was confused.

"You, silly!" He laughed at her expression then. "You look like a surprised elephant, Haruno-san!"

She reached out a slightly shaking hand in response and tickled him until her bones creaked, making them both laugh.

The picture sat on the table, catching the sunlight and making the features of one girl much more apparent. But the old woman and the boy did not notice.


	21. 95: Snow

_Ninety-Five_

It snowed  
Outside her window,  
A light dusting of glistening  
White powder,  
The stuff of fantasy.

It snowed  
Outside her door,  
A thick layer of shimmering  
Magic,  
The things of dreams.

It snowed  
Outside her walls,  
A suffocating blizzard  
Of glaring ivory,  
The storm of nightmares.

It thawed  
Outside her city,  
Leaving cold and  
Fear behind,  
the points of memories.

It snowed  
Outside her window,  
A light dusting of glistening  
White powder,  
The stuff of fantasy.


	22. 100: The Moon Is Waning

_One Hundred_

And here she was, smiling crookedly at her memories. It was nice, to be able to go back, even for just a little while. She had aged well, she knew that; she was healthy, still able to move on her own, an amazing thing for someone of her age. But she knew that soon it would all stop.

The moon was waning.

She watched it out her window, night after night, waiting for it to become fully black, a disk of pure ebony in the sky. Thoughts and thrills filled her as she thought about it. What was going to happen after she was gone?

She had seen children playing in the streets below her window, had seen them grow into teenagers and then adults, happy and married, loving. She knew that she must have looked like that at some point; they all must have. But these people hadn't even been born when she had been that age; their parents hadn't, most likely. It was amazing, but nothing had changed.

A hundred years had past, and they were still the same.

She liked the feeling of safety.


	23. Epilogue: Sakura

_Epilogue_

They slowly lowered her body into the ground, feeling a sense of loss. She had been legendary; the only ninja to ever live to the age of one hundred. There was pride there; they all respected her.

_She ran away,  
__Leaving them never knowing._

_She came back,  
__Not taking now but showing._

One of them is crying. It is a man, his hair, now dark, waving in the wind. He knows that he shouldn't be crying, it is not very "manly", but he can't help but do it. He is seventeen; he knows what manliness is.

A woman, his lover, grips his hand. She is crying too, even though she never met the old woman being buried. The two are clutching a picture, drawn by a seven-year old memory of this man.

None of them knew her, only the stories. She is the last of Them; the last of the legendary Rookie Nine. Kakashi-senpai's team. The last wisp of past, now condemned to be placed beneath stone.

But it is not prosecution. Not for the young girl who now races away, invisible to their eyes, to join the other memories who leak through the walls of this place, this city. It is anything but.

The moon has waned.

_Sakura! Sakura! Yayo-I no sora wa  
__Miwatasu kaghiri, Kasumi ka? Kumo ka?  
__Ni-o-I zo izuru  
__Iza ya! Iza ya! Mini yuka-n_

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Note:

I can't believe I finished this. Wow. It feels weird. I'm not going to ramble on here, but I just want to say a few things:

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story! I'm glad you guys liked it so much!

The song used at the end, _Sakura_, is a traditional Japanese song. Here are the translated lyrics: Cherry trees, cherry trees, bloom so bright in April breeze/like a mist or floating cloud/fragrance fills the air around, shadows flit along the ground/Come, o come! Come, o come/ Come, see cherry trees!

Here are the lyrics to the song that inspired this little story, which I listened to constantly. The song is by Five for Fighting, called _One Hundred Years_.

I'm 15 for a moment  
Caught in between 10 and 20  
And I'm just dreaming  
Counting the ways to where you are

I'm 22 for a moment  
She feels better than ever  
And we're on fire  
Making our way back from Mars

15 there's still time for you  
Time to buy and time to lose  
15, there's never a wish better than this  
When you only got 100 years to live

I'm 33 for a moment  
Still the man, but you see I'm a they  
A kid on the way  
A family on my mind

I'm 45 for a moment  
The sea is high  
And I'm heading into a crisis  
Chasing the years of my life

15 there's still time for you  
Time to buy, Time to lose yourself  
Within a morning star

15 I'm all right with you  
15, there's never a wish better than this  
When you only got 100 years to live

Half time goes by  
Suddenly you're wise  
Another blink of an eye  
67 is gone  
The sun is getting high  
We're moving on...

I'm 99 for a moment  
Dying for just another moment  
And I'm just dreaming  
Counting the ways to where you are

15 there's still time for you  
22 I feel her too  
33 you're on your way  
Every day's a new day...

15 there's still time for you  
Time to buy and time to choose  
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this  
When you only got 100 years to live

See you soon!

Enjoy.


End file.
